


Ignorance is Bliss But it Also Would've Gotten Your Manservant Killed

by TheHepburn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Magic Reveal, Merthur - Freeform, One-Shot, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 20:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19303477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHepburn/pseuds/TheHepburn
Summary: Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic. Merlin doesn't know he's found out. Now all that's left is for Arthur to make sure his idiotic manservant doesn't out himself as a sorcerer and get himself burned at the pyre.





	Ignorance is Bliss But it Also Would've Gotten Your Manservant Killed

Arthur had always known there was something  _odd_ about Merlin- and not just the way his ears splayed out from his head like wings or how his cheekbones threatened to overtake the rest of his face. No, there was something else. Something Merlin didn’t want Arthur to know about, which, of course, only made Arthur determined to know what it was.

Arthur watched Merlin, and not in that way he sometimes caught himself doing, where his mind would wander as he inconspicuously gazed at Merlin’s mouth as he prattled on endlessly…or at his arse. He watched Merlin in those quiet moments when he’d seemed to have forgotten about the world outside of his own head. And that made Arthur notice certain things.

Things like how his bath was always warm, no matter how terribly long Merlin took to fetch the water and left Arthur stewing in exasperation. And how his armor was always polished to perfection, sometimes incomprehensibly so.

And of course, always noting Merlin’s presence meant also always noting his absence, the way he’d disappear at the most inconvenient -or perhaps  _convenient,_ depending on whose perspective you followed- times.

Arthur was no idiot. At least, not to the extent that he didn’t take notice of what a lightweight Merlin was. Three drinks in and he was utterly sloshed, thin frame unable to withstand any such amount of alcohol. So how could Merlin, red-eared, red-faced Merlin, possibly spend so much time at the damn tavern? 

He  _couldn’t_.

The question became instead, what was Merlin actually doing when Gaius covered his arse with common lies easily believed about any young person?

Arthur wanted to know. Obviously. But as stated before, he wasn’t an entire idiot, and he didn’t fancy the idea of invading Merlin’s privacy to that extent. It was one thing to have a keen eye and make rather apparent observations about his surroundings and the space Merlin filled in it, but quite another to secretly follow him wherever it was he took off to.

What if Merlin was involved in some tryst? What if he had a girl he met in the lower village? That was definitely not something Arthur would want a front row seat to, for multiple reasons, several of which would remain unacknowledged and unspoken, deep in the depths of Arthur’s mind.

But then, rather abruptly, his questions were answered in an unforeseen but also not entirely surprising way. He’d been just about to push through his already cracked open chamber doors when he noticed Merlin kneeling before the fireplace, readying the room for Arthur’s return from his skirmish.

And, well, Arthur was a good man. Or so he liked to believe, but temptation was a nasty thing and what was one moment’s easily explained hesitation when opening a door, compared to the never-ending worrying about what his senseless manservant was up to?

Then he saw it. A fire jumped in the hearth, blazing to life in an instant. There weren’t many plausible explanations for such a thing. Perhaps Merlin had just been playing with explosives in Arthur’s room, lighting the fire with some flammable concoction from Gaius’s chambers.

But Arthur knew, he felt it deep in his bones as everything clicked into place, a perfect tapestry of explanations for all the things that didn’t make sense, all the stilted behavior.

Merlin had magic. And Arthur wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it.

* * *

 One thing was already clear, he couldn’t tell anyone. As annoying and useless as Merlin could be, Arthur would never let any harm come to him and that’s exactly what awaited him at the end of an ill-concealed secret spilling into Uther’s ears.

The other big concern, the one that was frustrating Arthur to no end, was how bloody stupid Merlin was being. He cast a spell with the damn door peeked open! Anyone could have seen him, anyone could have caught him in the act and morning would see him aflame on a pyre. Gods knows how the fool had kept himself alive for this long, let alone kept the secret from Arthur.

Actually, Arthur would prefer not to think about how easily he was deceived by the man he saw  _every day._ He considered that maybe a part of him had always suspected but kept deliberately obtuse for the betterment of all involved in the situation. But some part of Arthur knew that was fanciful thinking to make himself feel better.

Arthur paced the length of his room after Merlin had been dismissed for the evening, hands pulling and tugging at his hair as he fruitlessly tried to decipher his own feelings on the matter. He was hurt that Merlin hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him. On the other hand, he completely understood why he hadn’t. Arthur was the son of Uther Pendragon, notorious hater of magic and killer of all those that practiced it. And Arthur was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t done nearly enough to make Merlin feel comfortable enough to tell him, nor to discourage any idea that he believed such things about magic.

Really, he wasn’t sure  _what_ he had believed. He had been raised on the principle that magic was corrupt and evil and that only corrupt evil people would ever involve themselves with it. Arthur had seen with his own eyes that magic was as good or evil as the person who wielded it, but Uther’s voice, the loud obnoxious one that had taken residence in Arthur’s mind for many years, was a nastily persistent one.

It would take lots of untangling to destigmatize it in his own mind, to take back the power of choice he had on his feelings about magic. But it was a battle that Arthur knew he must face, if not just for the realization that his best friend was a sorcerer, then for the moral ideology Arthur knew he had to forge for himself rather than be led along on a leash.

After several hours and almost waring a path into the rug at the end of his bed, Arthur had come to the decision that he wouldn’t tell Merlin that he knew, for fear that Merlin would do something utterly mindless. This all meant that Arthur was left with the exhausting task of making sure his clutz of a servant didn’t out himself, as he had already done with Arthur, unbeknownst to him.

Arthur felt in the pit of his stomach and the ache of his heart that this was going to be a long and tiring task. And entirely worth it if Merlin was kept safe.

* * *

 

Arthur was right, it  _was_ tiring going around cleaning up Merlin’s messes. Arthur wondered if this was how Merlin had felt for those couple years that Arthur hadn’t known about his magic, constantly going around saving Arthur’s life, and all of Camelot for that matter. The irony did not go unnoticed.

Arthur frequently had to restrain himself from shouting at Merlin every time a branch surreptitiously fell from a tree and properly clonked a bandit on the head, knocking him out instantly, right before he was about to strike Arthur in the back.

Not only was it hard to keep others from knowing about Merlin’s magic, it was damn hard keeping  _Merlin_ from knowing that Arthur knew. He felt like a jester, stomping down the hallway as he went toward his room, trying to subtly alert Merlin of his presence before he arrived. Too often he was met with the sound of metal clanging against stone.

And don’t even get Arthur started on the bloody self-sacrificial streak Merlin was maintaining, always ready to jump head first into danger where his friends were concerned. Never in his life had Arthur taken such good care of himself and strived so ardently to live through each battle just so Merlin wouldn’t go traipsing along offering his life in place of Arthur’s. It was almost like Merlin  _wanted_  to give his life for Arthur’s, racing toward any chance he got.

Arthur simply wasn’t going to let that happen. There were two pigheaded, noble idiots in that castle and Arthur was damn well going to prove it. Arthur had always been ready to place himself between Merlin and death but that was only boosted by the knowledge that Merlin was trying to get himself killed left and right. If he did it one more time Arthur wasn’t sure if  _he’d_ be the one to kill him.

And here he was again, trying not to outright scowl as he played along with Dragoon, pretending he didn’t know it was Merlin underneath that grey beard and thinning hair. Arthur, prince of Camelot, heir to the throne, was stuck silently enduring Dragoon’s snide comments and, quite frankly,  _abuse_ ignorance as he made Arthur bloody carry him through the halls.

If there wasn’t so much on the line Arthur would chastise him for making these inane distractions in such a precarious situation. Arthur had needed the help of magic, covertly, to break a curse that had been cast on Camelot, leaving their crops rotten and food supplies perilously low. He’d brought the idea of sorcery to Gauis, foolishly hoping that the old physician would find him some wise wizard he knew back before the magic ban.

Not wrinkly Merlin with a penchant for petulance. Arthur didn’t like the risk of having Merlin use magic like that, however low-profile Arthur tried to keep it. But he couldn’t very well argue without giving away his own deeper understanding.

Instead he sneaked “Dragoon” through the castle and into his chamber where he could explain about the curse and the starvation that was plaguing the land. Of course, Dragoon already knew all of this but Arthur had learned there were many details to be maintained in order to keep one’s secret.

Dragoon nodded thoughtfully as he patiently listened to Arthur before turning to him once Arthur had finished. “So the young prince decided to turn against his father’s wishes and seek the help of magic.”

Arthur grimaced. “Yes.”

A smugly satisfied, albeit noticeably happy grin split the old man’s face. “Then I am glad to help you.”

* * *

 Arthur was relieved that the whole fiasco wasn’t a repeat of the unicorn trials, no ridiculous moral tasks to accomplish and prove himself as a righteous man. Instead, he was only stuck with a dodgery old man that decided to gripe at every turn and convey himself as the holder of all wisdom. If only he knew that Arthur was aware of what horse dung that all was.

Though a test of Arthur’s patience, it wasn’t all that bad. Retrieving the required items was as difficult as one would expect, with the normal blood thirsty creatures trying to maul Arthur. The only difference was that Merlin -or Dragoon, that ludicrous name- was able to freely use his magic to help them. And so it did, the journey was far easier when you could magically fling beasts into walls and conjure away traps hidden in caves.

It culminated to an exhausting but rewarding few days of effort and at the end of it, Arthur, however annoyed, found himself sad to say goodbye to Dragoon. It was only Merlin, of course, and Arthur knew that. But to have Merlin around and able to so openly use his magic created a warm blossom in Arthur’s chest. He wanted it to be like that every day, without the atrocious disguise of Dragoon.

“Well, young prince, the curse has been broken. You can rest easy knowing Camelot is safe.” Dragoon said, preparing to depart outside of Camelot’s walls.

“Is it?” Arthur questioned, holding onto the lingering moments of freedom with his servant. His friend. “Someone had to have cast the spell, which means there’s someone out that’s a threat to Camelot.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Dragoon’s shoulders sagged, his eyes cast downward to the dirt. His first acquiescence since their initial meeting. “I will let you find the culprit on your own but all I ask, in return for my services, is that you think about  _why_ this person has done what they have and see if there is any compassion in your heart for them.”

Part of Arthur was rightfully angry. Someone tried to starve Camelot, innocent people barely able to feed their children and he was expected to show them sympathy? The other part was more considerate. He thought of all the people his own father had killed, burned and beheaded in front of cheering crowds. And Arthur hadn’t done anything to stop it. If the roles were reversed, Arthur supposed he’d be rather vengeful as well.

“I know my father has done awful things,” he caught Dragoon’s gaze and now he was speaking to Merlin, to those familiar blue eyes, “and I try, at least, to understand the hurt he’s caused your people. He’s murdered guiltless people and I can only imagine the fear that’s caused. I can’t say I condone what this person has done, but if my words hold any sway over my father, I will do all in my power to persuade him toward mercy. And I promise you,” Arthur put all the feeling he could muster into those words, as softly as they were spoken, “when I am king, things will be different. I will be different.”

The faintest shadow of a smile ghosted Dragoon’s mouth and from it Arthur could see the hope flickering across his face. And the love that burned just as brightly.

“I trust that you will.”

* * *

Arthur still hadn’t found the perpetrator of the curse, but he couldn’t bring himself to properly hunt them down. The blood on his father’s hands seeped onto Arthur’s and he wouldn’t add any more if he could help it.

The journey to break this curse had opened something in Arthur, a profound pain of having to hide what he knew from Merlin. Empathy blazed through his veins, knowing that this must’ve been exactly how Merlin felt, constantly having to keep his true self a secret. How he  _still_ felt. Arthur wished he could just tell him, let it all spill out of him like a flood and then he wouldn’t have to keep anything from Merlin, nor Merlin from him, and they could live in this new world without secrets.

But Arthur was starting to understand that the decision must lie in Merlin’s hands. He had to prove to him that he was trustworthy, that he would accept Merlin for who he was and help hide his magic from Uther and his iron fist that loomed ominously over the kingdom. He felt the beginnings of that with Dragoon. Every day he could still recall the look that had flashed across Merlin’s face, the starting twinkle of optimism that maybe things really would be different with Arthur. That they already  _were_ , and Arthur was going to show him.

His hints couldn’t exactly be described as subtle, he would admit. If openly monologuing about his gaining distrust in Uther’s ethics and opinions on magic as he walked in circles around his room didn’t get the message across, he wasn’t sure what would.

Merlin kept that same, small, hopeful smile as he gently nudged Arthur on, obviously trying to encourage him in the right direction. Arthur loved it, that dopey smile and the way Merlin enthusiastically rolled onto the balls of his feet. Arthur could almost feel Merlin’s heart beating in his chest, his warmth emanating outward. It was the most lovely sensation Arthur had ever experienced and one he couldn’t dwell on without mucking up his thought process and flushing his cheeks a bright crimson.

Arthur continued his other duties as well, explaining away Merlin’s behavior to the servants when Merlin would dart out of the room without so much as a word. He created excuses to the knights when they’d give Merlin curious glances after an enemy conveniently tripped and fell before reaching a scrambling Merlin. Making himself seem as dimwitted as humanly possible to quell any suspicions Merlin may have had about Arthur knowing.

And, of course, dropping clues that he was accepting by way of, though not grandly, fighting his father on issues regarding magic and its users.

* * *

 

Arthur caught himself eagerly awaiting Merlin to reveal himself, clinging on like a fool to any string that may have led to Merlin telling him. He must’ve looked like an anticipatory idiot but if Merlin noticed, he hadn’t said anything.

Weeks turned into months and the hope that Merlin would trust him enough to show him his magic was starting to dwindle. But then one day, Merlin wasn’t fast enough. Arthur felt the cold edge of the blade slice cleanly through him, warmed by his blood.

He fell to the ground with a thud, hand already clutching the leaking wound. He heard his name pierce the air as everything stood still in a resounding sweep that should’ve knocked the dust from the earth into the wind like a cloud.

His vision was steadily becoming hazy but he could just make out the faint glow of gold fading from Merlin’s eyes as he slid roughly over the grass to Arthur’s side, hauling him into his lap. Arthur spared a glance around, the entire world at an utter standstill. A man stood menacingly over him, dagger still clutched in his hand, red droplets fallen off its point and hovering just over the ground. His knights, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, Elyan, all frozen mid-battle.

The kind of power that took, to stop time. Arthur couldn’t believe it.

“Merlin, your…your magic-“ it’s amazing, how did you do that? You must be made of it, it must be woven into your skin and wrapped around your soul-

“I know- I know, I’m sorry, Arthur. I should’ve told you, I just- it doesn’t matter. Just  _please_ let me try to heal you.” Merlin begged, his voice wobbly and his eyes welling with tears.

“It’s okay, I know I can trust you, I know it.” He groaned in pain, using the rest of his energy to keep his gaze locked with Merlin’s. “But, Merlin, you…you can’t heal me. It’s too risky. You have to leave me, to go back over there and start time again like nothing else happened. Please, be smart for once.” He chuckled wryly but Merlin didn’t share in his humor.

“I-I can’t-“

“You have to.”

Merlin frantically looked around, seeming to search for any answer he could find that would just get them through this alive. His head swiveled like an owl’s as his hands trembled on Arthur’s frame. Finally, he locked eyes with Arthur, something hard, and resolute, and absolutely  _stubborn_ behind his irises that had Arthur unable to look away, to fade into unconsciousness.

“Do you trust them? The knights?”

“Of course, with my life.” Arthur answered without hesitation, but his voice was growing weaker.

“Okay…then I trust them, too.”

And before Arthur could say anything or even blackout, time was willed to resume and the bandit that had stabbed him was flung back against a tree with a sickening crack. The knights’ features slackened with shock as their enemies’ swords embedded themselves deep in the dirt, allowing the knights to knock them out.

Then, just as suddenly, Merlin’s eyes burned gold and the air felt light,  _was_ light, and moved in and out of Arthur with an unnatural ease, filling his lungs and cocooning around him like a blanket. He felt it, Merlin’s magic, absorb into his skin and weave its way through his body, circling his wound and dissolving the pain that throbbed there.

Slowly, everything went back to normal, the air thick with heat, the sliver of pain in his abdomen, the blue of Merlin’s eyes before they rolled into the back of his head and they both fell unconscious to the confused shouts of the knights.

* * *

**Some years later.**

“We’ll need someone, a sorcerer, to covertly infiltrate the camp without arousing suspicion.” Arthur said as he slipped on his tunic, the early morning sun baking his back through his chamber windows.

He turned around to see Merlin sitting up in their bed, blankets pooled around his waist, a mischievous grin splitting his lips. “I may know a guy…”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, smiling indulgently as he made his way to the side of the bed and pulled Merlin in for a quick kiss. “Is that so?”

Merlin nodded, an evil expression overtaking his face. “Remember Dragoon?”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he threw his head back with a dramatic sigh, “please don’t tell me you plan on turning into that maddening old man, again?”

A look of surprise rolled over Merlin’s features as he stared at Arthur, horrified. “When did you find out that was me?”

Arthur let the silence speak for itself as he tried to stifle the laughter bubbling in his throat.

“You mean…” Merlin let out an undignified moan as he slumped his head against Arthur’s chest, “you knew? You bloody knew the whole time? Oh my gods, I rode on  _your back_  and there I was thinking I was so clever for deceiving you.” He groaned and buried his face deeper into Arthur, incomprehensible embarrassed noises muffled in Arthur’s tunic, a vibrant blush spreading over Merlin’s neck. “It all makes sense now, your sudden monologues about magic, you going against your father. All that time you knew and you-you just let me go on acting like I was keeping the biggest secret in the world!”

Arthur chuckled, rubbing soothing circles on Merlin’s back. “It  _was_ a big secret, it just wasn’t a secret from  _me_.”

“You are an utter arsehole.”

“I wanted to protect you.”

“I know.” He felt Merlin smile against him. “I wanted to protect you, too.”

“I know.”

**Finished.**

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a fic for awhile now but I only decided to write it the night before last so please forgive if it's a little rough around the edges. I might come back and clean it up a bit when it's not one in the morning. I'm not sure if I originally planned for it to be this short and fairly lighthearted but it was never supposed to be a heavy read and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you all think!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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